Chapter XII: A Lesson of Waiting

"Shall we grow weary in our watch,
And murmur at the long delay,
Impatient of our Father's time
And his appointed way?"

"How do you like your new clerk?" asked Mrs. Wynn, as she poured out the coffee one morning few months later.

"Pretty well," replied her husband. "He is teachable and improves; he has made some good sales already. To be sure he is not quite so prompt nor so industrious as Herbert, but then few boys are. I will say that for Master Herbert, if only he had not been quite so certain that his own way was the best. It would have been a costly experiment, but I should have liked to have kept him, just to see how far he would carry his notions, and what they would amount to."

"His way? His notions?" thought Mabel. "Why don't father say God's way?" But she did not speak her thought. She know it was useless to argue the question, and she was only too thankful that her father allowed her liberty of conscience, and seldom interfered with her plans.

The new clerk with whom Mr. Wynn had just expressed his satisfaction was Perry Morse, who now filled the place made vacant by Herbert Bradford's dismissal, notwithstanding Mr. Wynn had declared his determination not to take another boy from Mabel's class. It came about naturally enough. Mr. Morse had intimate business connections with Mr. Wynn, and the vacancy occurring just us he was looking about for a position of the sort for his son, the place was easily secured, to the present satisfaction of all parties. Very likely Mr. Wynn never knew that Perry belonged to those boys, or had forgotten a resolution made in a moment of intense disgust and vexation.

Mabel had listened eagerly for the reply to her mother's question (a question she would not have put herself for a small fortune). She was not surprised at the answer. Yet some way it saddened her, and as she went up to her room when breakfast was over, the old questions came up, "Have I done all I could for my class? Why does failure seem to be written upon my work?"

She had met with many discouragements of late. Having determined to remain at her post through the winter, she had laboured diligently and prayerfully for her beloved class with little apparent success. True, Herbert went steadily forward in the path he had chosen, and quiet, thoughtful Willy was ever anxious to know and to do the will of Christ; then there was the suffering Henry, whose faith grew stronger and brighter. Surely the heart of the teacher might have rejoiced over these souls saved!

But the others seemed slipping away from her and from Christ. Satan was determined to have them, and Mabel sometimes thought that everything conspired to favour the enemy's plans. Something had gone wrong with Mr. Morse. There had been a warm debate in regard to some proposed Sunday-school measure. Perhaps it was the question of "old or young first in the distribution of library books," or it may have been in regard to the propriety of electing a lady to fill the office of assistant superintendent. I cannot say that it was not some really important question. At all events, as one of the defeated party, Mr. Morse was displeased, and declared that "if Dr. Myers was going to run the school, he would do it without any of his (Mr. Morse's) help," and by way of punishing the offenders, he absented himself. Perry had just reached the age when boys (some boys) are apt to think themselves too old to go to Sunday-school, and now that he had his father's example before him, he became very irregular in attendance.

In vain, Mabel sought him out and redoubled her efforts to interest him. He would not be interested, only when the little quiet talk among the teachers and Dr. Myers's energetic moves had done their work, and the Sabbath-School Missionary Association was formed, with Mr. Burns (a member of Dr. Myers's class) as president, Miss Joslyn secretary, and Perry Morse treasurer. He condescended to accept his appointment, and made a great display of business, but paid little attention to the main work of the hour.

As for Lewie Amesbury, he was diligent as ever, but drew his self-righteousness more closely about him, spoke bitterly of those who, proposing to live by faith and to be actuated by love for Jesus, failed in their lives to honour their Master—as he expressed it—"Keeping their religion for communion Sundays, and doing like other people the rest of the time." His interest in sacred themes, his study, his following, was all of the intellect, his heart was untouched; as Mabel said often and sadly to herself, "I cannot reach him."

With Duncan McNair, it was different. He had no interest of any sort. He came to Sunday-school sometimes with and sometimes without a lesson; he came because he liked to be with the boys, liked Miss Wynn, liked the library books, and, like every other boy in the congregation, he liked Mr. Earle. But first in his list of saints and heroes was Dr. Myers, who had once helped him out of some boyish scrape; for that matter, somebody might have a chance to help him out of a scrape almost any day, for he was generally in one. His mother had died so long ago that he scarcely remembered her. He had been petted and spoiled as well as cared for, by his grandmother, until she too, was called away when he was twelve years old. Since then, he had lived at home with his father and the housekeeper.

Judge McNair was a wealthy and influential lawyer, and a man of much culture, both intellectual and spiritual. Duncan was his only son, and of late, from being more constantly with the boy, he noticed with pain the careless habits of thought and speech which he had been suffered to acquire. He said, too, that though openhearted and generous, Duncan was wilful and passionate, and that very few people seemed to have any influence over him. From the first, Mabel was one of these few; but though he was always ready to serve her, he would not listen to serious conversation. Scenting the most distant approach to it, he brought out his keenest weapons of nonsense and adroitness, and invariably managed to turn aside every attempt at a personal appeal.

Just once that winter, Mabel grew hopeful. It was the Sabbath of the Week of Prayer. She had gone from her closet to her class; gone with the lesson not more in her mind than in her heart, and had taught as one who teaches for eternity. Duncan forgot to be nonsensical. Lewie seemed to realize that there might be a depth of meaning in their watchword which he had not fathomed, and even Perry was less alive to the importance of his official duties. Referring to the notices of religious services every evening during the week, the teacher expressed the hope that they would all attend the meetings, and was gratified at the promptness with which they responded to the request.

But it turned out that of all the class, only Herbert and Arthur Knapp were present upon Monday evening. Some trifle kept Perry away, Mrs. Amesbury sent Lewie upon an errand to her milliner, and Duncan forgot all about the meeting until it was too late; his father being out of town, he was not reminded by him as he would otherwise have been. As for Miss Wynn herself, she was detained at home by an attack of nervous headache. So it chanced that none of those four heard of a singular discussion which arose at the close of the evening's service, nor of the result. It appeared that a popular lecturer, who regarded not the appointments of the "Evangelical Alliance," proposed to occupy Tuesday evening in speaking in the hall upon a scientific subject, and Mr. Morse suggested that the meeting for that evening be given up. Though Mr. Earle and others were opposed, the majority were in favour of the arrangement, and carried that point. They argued that a great many would go to the lecture anyway who ought to go to the meeting, if there were one, and it was better to give it up entirely.

Said Mr. Earle, "If it were a question of making an appointment there might be room for hesitation, but in the case of one already made, and by us at second hand, I must protest against recalling the notice."

But, as I have said, the majority ruled, and the lecturer was sure of an audience. Strangely enough, Mr. Morse did not speak of the matter at home. It is not so very strange either, for Mrs. Morse never went out evenings, and Perry was not supposed to be interested in prayer-meetings. Ah, if we only knew sometimes what people were interested in!

"Want to go to the lecture tonight, Perry?" asked Mr. Morse at tea-time. "I'm going to get tickets. Get one for you?"

"No, sir. I've another engagement," answered Perry.

"Better give it up. This will be best one of the season."

"Well, I don't care about going," replied Perry.

And a little later, he started out to go to a prayer-meeting! As he reached the corner, he stopped suddenly, saying to himself, "Catch me stalking in there alone. I'll just run around and see if Art will go."

"Why couldn't father have told me?" he exclaimed, ten minutes later, when Arthur Knapp had explained the state of affairs.

Ah! Why couldn't he? It is safe to say that if he had, Perry might have gone to the lecture instead of a worse place, and the first downward step would not have been taken that night. And, to go a little further back, why couldn't he have been satisfied with things as they were, letting the meeting have its chance. Then, perhaps, it might have been an upward step.

Lewie and Duncan met somewhere in the street, and decided to go to meeting together, but soon learned that there was none to go to; and presently they met Miss Wynn coming from the darkened church, herself quite in the dark.

"I wonder what it means," she said. "I thought there was to be service every evening!"

"So there was," Lewie replied. "I couldn't come last night, but I came tonight, to keep my promise. But it seems that science is better than religion—for some folks," he added quickly, as Mabel said, "O Lewie!" in a troubled tone.

"Don't be cross about it," said Duncan. "If they had only known that you and I were coming, they'd had a meeting sure. We'll let them know beforehand next time. They didn't expect us out, you know."

"But I don't understand," said Mabel.

"Why, you see," replied Lewie, "Professor A. is going to demonstrate the problem of the man in the moon's mode of existence, or some other puzzle, so the meeting is given up. I suppose people can sing and pray any evening, but they can't hear Professor A., except tonight. Still I think it is queer, and the Week of Prayer, too!

"I tell you, Miss Wynn," he continued, "things are a great puzzle to me. If prayer is so important that a week is set apart for it, and the whole world turned into a great prayer-meeting, I should think that Professor A. might go without an audience, rather than the meeting be given up. It appears that it is not considered of much consequence after all. Shall we go to the lecture, Miss Wynn?"

"I think not," she replied. "We will be consistent, anyway. I am quite puzzled about the matter, but I will venture to assert that you will not find Mr. Earle, nor several others I might mention, at the hall tonight; and I have no doubt there will be a great deal of closet prayer this evening. And, Lewie, you know this doesn't prove anything against the power and importance of prayer. It may show that too low an estimate is put upon its value, but nothing more."

"Well, Lew," said Duncan, as they reached Mr. Wynn's store, where Mabel sought an escort for her homeward walk, "what are we going to do now? I'm afloat."

"Upon a sea of nothingness?" asked Lewie. "Well, I don't know, I'm sure. Hang around a spell, and then go home, I suppose."

"Hang around!" repeated Mabel to herself. "Yes, and be snapped up by Satan in some of his guises. No, that won't do," and her thoughts travelled quickly, seeking a remedy for the evil. She had intended to go directly home and spend the evening in her own room, but now she changed her mind very suddenly.

"See here," she said, "suppose we go around and spend an hour with Henry Trafton."

"All right! Superexcellent!" exclaimed Duncan. "If we can't go to prayer-meeting, we will visit the sick. What say, Lew?"

"I don't care. Yes, I'd like it," answered Lewie.

Henry, who had so far improved as to be able to move about his room by means of an invalid's chair, welcomed them warmly, and they spent a quiet evening together, safe from the vices and temptations of the street.

But where was Perry Morse? Sauntering down street, he met Nick Turner, an out-and-out loafer, who called out—

"Halloo! I say, Morse, how do you happen to be in the street this time of day?"

How the fellow dared to address Perry Morse, haughty as he generally was, in that familiar tone and manner, must remain unexplained. Almost any other time, Perry would have answered shortly, "That's my affair," and passed on; but tonight he was out of tune; he had missed the lecture for nothing, and being in search of amusement, he replied—

"I got leave of absence to go to church, because I thought that was the style; but it seems the fashion has changed, so I'm out."

"Ho! That's it! Well, just you follow me, and I'll show you a tall thing or two, that will throw your sort of fun in the shade."

A dingy back room, half a dozen boys around a table, a pack of dirty cards, a bottle and some glasses. Nick knew they waited for him, but he knew better than to take Perry Morse into that den, so he turned in at Murphy's saloon, where everything was bright and enticing. It was a rather expensive place, to be sure, but then it was not often he had such a companion, and perhaps in the end it would pay. They found dominoes and dice, and whatever else belongs to the gambler's craft, and they found cigars and liquors, and silver and cut glass, and obsequious attendance. But why try to describe the gilded haunt of sin, or recount the story of the evening? Late that evening, Perry groped his way to his room, his pockets empty and his head—well, something ailed his head—something was the matter the next morning with head, hands, and limbs. Could it have been the wine?

In vain, Miss Wynn looked for the boys of her class the next evening. Excepting Herbert and Willy, none of them appeared at church during the remainder of the week, and when she met them on the Sabbath, all signs of any special interest had vanished. Then it was that these souls resting heavily upon her, she grew weary and faint, until remembering that the work was Christ's, and that surely he must have far more interest than she could have, she took heart again, saying, softly, "In thine own time and way, O God!" Mabel was learning to wait.